by Abby Lee
It struck me that if the people in there knew just one per cent of what occupied my mind at any given minute, they would have been horrified:
⋆ A sex fiend?
⋆ A girl who loves cock?
⋆ A multi-orgasmic, permanently aroused sex obsessive?
A preacher would have a field day with me – they could cast me out as a Sinner, pray for Divine Intervention, or make me beg for my Redemption – hours of fun.
Bored out of my mind and affronted by all the religious propaganda, I suddenly got this impulse to stand up and do something totally improper, sordid and lewd, confronting my great-uncle and showing him that I was no longer the polite, innocent girl he thought me to be.
Reckon I need guidance? I’ll get on my knees and worship in public, if God is a cock and answering my prayers means corresponding directly with my mouth.
Think sex is evil? Well then, how about I dress head to foot in a black rubber cat-suit, complemented by knee-high stiletto-heeled boots and topped off with a studded collar round my neck to show you just how corrupt I now am?
Believe that I need to repent? I’ve learned I can be a bad girl, so give me a six-foot whip in my hand, some adoring worshipper at my feet and the chance to dish out some punishment to his willing backside (and, yeah, I’d graciously allow him to become my tongue slave after he had begged for mercy as part of his redemption, too), and then maybe I could recognise the error of my ways.
The daydream went no further than this though, sadly. I didn’t even say the word ‘fuck’, I was so well behaved.
I think a few of the congregation might have had heart attacks, had I gone through with the fantasy – even though those would just be the ones who were secret hard-core S&M porn fans.
Hopefully that wouldn’t include my great-uncle. Rubber wouldn’t suit him.
Friday 25th November
I ended up sleeping with Blog Boy again last night. I tried not to, I really did. I wanted to see how he felt about everything before I shagged him, but I couldn’t help myself. It’s been months since we last saw each other and now we’re both back in town, it just seemed natural for us to end up in bed again at the end of the evening.
So after much food and wine we ended up at his place, falling into each other’s arms and having pretty passionate sex. It was lovely. We seem to fit together so well, we match each other, both in drive and in pleasure.
But today, when Blog Boy had to go to work, he seemed to cold shoulder me once again. Perhaps I am being neurotic, but it sort of felt like I was some kind of regretted one-night stand. Maybe that is what I am to him – I don’t know. I’m so confused now.
What I do know is that no matter how hard I have tried, I cannot help but have feelings for him – even when I haven’t seen him for so long. They’ve just got more intense in the meantime. Every time I have seen him, every time I have slept with him, it’s just reinforced how I feel.
So when his arms were wrapped around me as we dozed off together, I felt happy and wanted, and I knew that – with him – it wasn’t, nor has it ever been, just about the sex for me.
As for him, I don’t know. I am worried that if I were to tell him how I really feel, he might stop seeing me. And though I know it’s stupid, that it’s not good for me, at least having a little of something with him is better than nothing at all.
Even though it is beginning to eat me up inside.
The Girl’s Guide to Fuck-Buddies
What to do if you end up having sex with a friend:
1 Whether or not sex is involved, a friendship must be built on trust, honesty and openness, and these things take priority over any sexual desires. If this is not the case, it cannot survive sex entering the equation.
2 You cannot treat your mate like you would a fuck-buddy. The latter will not be offended if you are out of contact for some time or decline to meet up, but a friend may feel rejected if you do not make arrangements to see them in a non-sexual context too.
3 Wants and needs are fluid things and should be constantly reassessed and talked about. Whereas two months ago, one person may have just wanted a drunken grope with their mate, now they may have feelings for the other person. If this is not discussed, the boundaries of the friendship will be threatened and the relationship risks failing.
4 Understand that the sex may be more intimate than fuck-buddy sex. The very nature of friendship means that the experience will involve more than basic physical sexual expression. Beware that this doesn’t necessarily mean anything more than what it in fact is: emotional closeness expressed through sexual physicality.
5 Do not have sex with your friends if:
a) You have romantic feelings for them. It will only mess with your head and your heart, and, inevitably, your friendship too.
b) You find it hard to have emotionally disconnected sex. Shagging someone you don’t care about can be hard in itself when it comes to merely forming a physical connection; shagging someone you do care about, even if it’s only platonically, can make the experience painful at best, and emotionally damaging at worst.
c) You really want to be in a relationship with someone, and even though you may not harbour romantic feelings for your friend, you know that having sex with them and experiencing that closeness will remind you of what you are missing, and what you really want. Bound to result in regret and an unpleasant aftertaste.
12
December
Thursday 1st December
It’s funny. After Steven, I wanted to avoid getting involved with anyone. All I wanted was to have a good time without the hassle of a relationship, but meeting Blog Boy threw me. Here was a bloke that I liked, that I could actually imagine being with – a man I didn’t just want to fuck.
So why has sleeping with him again left my head in such a mess? Why has it made me so confused? Surely I should know where things are at between us now – it’s been long enough.
But I don’t know, and it’s no good. I have to tell him how I feel and find out if he feels the same. If he doesn’t, I don’t want to sleep with him again. Even though he makes my pants wet, just being a fuck-buddy isn’t enough for me – I want and deserve more.
So maybe I need to wait until I next see him, before I have sex again – with anyone – because I need to know if he’s worth being the only man in my life. It is going to be hard for me – I wouldn’t mind another shag and turning away temptation will be a challenge, but I think I need to give it a try – for now, anyway.
Sunday 4th December
Sometimes all it takes is a look.
I felt him staring at me even before I looked up to meet his eyes. I was aware of his piercing gaze, and knew that out of all the people at my great-aunt’s birthday party, he was looking solely at me.
Over the last few months I have learned that occasionally instant chemistry occurs. I don’t think it has anything to do with fancying, or flirtation, or even curiosity. It is just synchronisation on a purely physical and carnal level: across a room two people can share a glance and immediately know that they want to fuck each other’s brains out.
When I saw the way this guy looked at me today, I knew. The hunger, the way he held my gaze without looking away, not smiling, yet with desire clearly shining – I could feel it burning into me even though he was standing some distance away. The sexual tension hung in the air like an invisible mist, his body screaming out loudly to me over the chatter of the party. He watched my face and waited for my response.
I was trying to think with some clarity, rather than listen to the pulse beating between my legs as I watched him watching me. I had no misconceptions here. There would be no getting to know each other, no friendly chat over drinks, no knowing of names. This would be him pushing me against the wall of the toilet cubicle, pulling up my dress, tugging my thong to one side and ramming his cock into me. We would be two strangers clawing at each other, fucking with fury, dripping with sweat, and then moments later, we would dress and rejoin the party. We’d
carry on without even missing a beat.
As I looked at him, I knew all of this lay ahead. I’ve been here before and I know a zipless fuck when I see one.
My pussy throbbed. I knew he would be getting hard too: I saw him adjust himself as he continued watching me and I wondered why I was attracted to him.
Here was a man, 20 years my senior, rotund, short, and with all the typical mannerisms of an East End wheelerdealer geezer. It certainly wasn’t his appearance, or the twang of his cockney voice, which filled me with desire. Nor was it his age. Unless it was David Lynch talking to me all night, older men do not interest me. No, it was the way he looked at me – the assured steadiness of his gaze – it let me know that he wanted to fuck me, and that, pure and simple, is what made me so aroused right there in the middle of my great-aunt’s do.
I debated what to do. It was my choice after all. I knew that if I kept eye contact and walked into the toilet, he would have followed me. It excited me that sex was so clearly within my grasp, that I could enter the loo and then be pummelled by him shortly afterwards. I imagined what it would be like having his breath on my neck and his cock between my legs. I could almost feel the orgasm I would have had, welling up inside me ready to burst. I wanted him badly.
I stared at him, and thought for a moment. As much as I yearned to fuck him, I knew I couldn’t. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew it wasn’t right for me to do it. I was at the party as a carer for my great-aunt, and going off to the bathroom for a quick fuck would mean leaving her to fend for herself. I couldn’t do that to her, as much as I wanted a shag.
I also thought about Blog Boy. If he is as important to me as I’d like him to be, surely I shouldn’t be shagging other blokes too? Maybe, I thought, if I don’t have sex with anyone else, then things will fall into place with him. It’s worth a try.
So I broke my stare with the older man. He kept glancing over at me for the rest of the evening, but I chose to look away. The temptation to act was far too strong.
Unfortunately, when it comes to my desire, I have discovered that I am more of a looter who impatiently breaks all the glass to steal what’s on display, rather than a patient, wellbehaved shopper queuing at a checkout. I have become a great pursuer of the ‘try before you buy’ type deals on offer.
However, if today is anything to go by, I guess I’m learning how to slowly window-shop instead, or at least, now I’ll remove the window carefully before grabbing the goods – a definite improvement in my eyes – even though it meant I lost out on a hearty rogering. I still managed to retain my will power, which for me, is quite an achievement.
Friday 9th December
Again, I’ve managed to turn down another shag. I elected to send a cute guy home alone this evening – and I am glad I did.
Kathy’s friend Brian and I had a lovely meal, followed by some interesting conversation, helped along by many rounds of drinks. While we chatted I became aware of his body language. It’s something I have been paying a lot of attention to during my explorations this year. I have discovered that it’s a huge advantage to be fluent in the physical manifestations of people’s unconscious desires. Knowing what someone’s intentions might be, before they’ve expressed them verbally, has kept me one step ahead in the shagging field.
It seemed clear to me that Brian fancied me, but I didn’t want to get involved:
He was much younger than me. Previous experience has shown me that although younger men may have good stamina in the sack, they rarely know how to deal with an older woman on an emotional level. Still developing their sense of self, they inevitably end up with their feelings hurt when faced with an independent woman who may only want a casual dalliance with them.
He admitted to me that he was very sexually inexperienced with women and that sex scared him. It wasn’t the inexperience itself that put me off – I know that I could corrupt him in two minutes flat and that it would be hugely fun: ‘Ooh look, someone I can mould into being a superb lover, and who’ll be grateful for evermore; how delightful!’
That would stroke my ego, but the potential psychological damage I could cause in the meantime meant I should know better, and not touch him with a bargepole.
3) When he went to the bar to get more drinks, I saw someone who looked like Blog Boy and my heart leapt. It wasn’t him, but my reaction to seeing him made me realise just how much I like Blog Boy – and want to be with him.
And again I thought to myself that if only I could control my desire and not give in to temptation and distractions, it might enable me to see if something more can develop between me and Blog Boy.
When Brian’s hand grazed mine as he put down his pint glass, or when he touched my arm gently as he was making a point, I did not return the gestures. I did not laugh wildly at his jokes when I didn’t mean it. I did not throw back my hair and twirl it nervously around my fingers.
And at the end of the night, when he leaned in to give me an open-mouthed kiss on the lips, I moved my face aside and let him find my cheek instead.
Because of Blog Boy, I am all too aware of the potential consequences of a one-night stand: someone may get their feelings hurt. So not wanting to be the cause of any pain on Brian’s part, I said goodnight and made my way home.
As I got on the bus, I suddenly felt confused. I had sacrificed spending the night with someone because of a man who might not even want me – was I doing the right thing?
The bus drove off and I resigned myself to the thought that I had made the right choice regardless. I may have lost out on a potential shag, I may have felt lonely, but at least I could sleep with a clear conscience.
Although dreaming about Blog Boy didn’t help me get much rest, it has to be said.
Monday 12th December
Dear Man on the Northern Line,
You may think I didn’t notice how you scanned the carriage as you entered and made eye contact with me before sitting next to me.
Perhaps you observed how even though you were clearly a handsome chap, I only looked at you once, before pretending to fiddle with my iPod.
Maybe you knew that I would find someone like you very appealing. It is true that in your tall, blue-eyed, sexy mid-thirtyish way, I would consider you ripe and perfect for picking. You did, after all, remind me of Blog Boy and his looks. But suddenly I felt sad when I saw you, because you made me think of how much I like him.
So when you kept staring at my reflection in the window, and I turned to look away, I shall have you know that it was because I was thinking of him and trying to exercise my will power and self-control, and not because I wasn’t interested in you.
Even when you half smiled at me and I felt compelled to grin back.
You see, you kept making it difficult for me with your ingenious, calculating, manly ways. When you spread your legs and ensured they rested against mine at all times, you must have known how hard it was for me not to place my hand on your thigh and squeeze it gently.
And when you slid your forearm alongside my own so that I could feel your warm skin against mine, it was surely obvious that I was fighting the urge to rest my fingers on yours and stroke them gently.
But when you then began to tense the muscles in your leg so that I could feel the movement up against my own thigh, it really was most out of order Don’t you know that a woman like me is barely able to resist such a gesture?
The fact that it made me want to:
Slide my hand between your legs to feel your cock;
Raise my leg over yours and squeeze your thigh underneath mine;
Place your hand between my legs so you could feel my wetness.
And yet I still managed gently to move my own thigh away, while trying to maintain an air of decency. This shows that I do in fact have some resolution and even when faced with such a pussy-tease as you, I can exercise some self-control.
Or course it didn’t help that:
I was thinking about what your cock would feel like inside me;
I was wondering wh
ether you would be as good in bed as Blog Boy:
I was considering if you could be Boyfriend Potential Material.
But I managed to contain myself, even when faced with such a challenge.
I appreciate that you helped me strengthen my resolve, enabling me to delay acting out my desires until I got home, rather than attempting to get you into bed with me as I might have done a few months ago.
I am proud to say that I behaved like a lady, treating the situation with dignity and elegance. A truly classy performance all round, and one to be repeated – I hope.
(Except for that moment when I bent down slightly to give you a better view of my boobs, but let’s not go into that now, even if it did give you some issues in the trouser department.)
Yours thankfully,
Abby
Wednesday 14th December
I just found an old email from Jake, a guy I was seeing three years ago. I couldn’t read it without weeping – I’m such a girl sometimes. Or maybe it’s just because I am feeling fragile right now, because yet again, I haven’t heard from Blog Boy since we had sex and I can’t bring myself to contact him right now.
Reading Jake’s final email to me has made me wonder what he is up to nowadays, where he is at in his life. Whether he married the girlfriend he cheated on with me; if he finally has the kids that he so desired.
To this day, I am still racked with guilt about our brief ‘affair’. It rests uneasily on my conscience – a reminder that someone will always be affected by the choices I make. I have to be responsible for my actions.